


Breaking up is hard too.

by MissLeChuck



Category: Home Movies (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bonding, Developing Relationship, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Light-Hearted, One-Sided Attraction, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLeChuck/pseuds/MissLeChuck
Summary: Brendon decided to invite Coach McGuirk in to help him filming one of his movies. After arriving a tad too late, the only thing he encounters is Paula drinking in the living room. One thing leads to another.
Relationships: Paula Small/Coach John McGuirk, Paula Small/Coach McGuirk
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. Dad.

**Author's Note:**

> As you may know, I'm a fan of dialogue driven situations. If you have any criticism regarding the characterizations, hit me up.

The coach reached out for the rear view mirror, tweaking it mindlessly. His wrist drew back to him; 9 PM.

He tapped his fingers over the metallic steering wheel. He _clearly_ remembered Brendon telling him come by at 5 after suggesting to volunteer in one of his recent projects. He also remembered the reluctancy- _"If you want. Melissa might have an extra costume for you. We're doing an Old West, kinda noir drama, alright? I'll be a French sheriff, Jason is an Indian mime. Your addition might not be..."_

And then he trailed off. The ghastly odor of cheap beer snuck inside his nostrils as a reminder for the excuse to blame in his empty promise. But he leant back just for the sight of a single old empty bottle laying on the backseat. McGuirk had compensated the lack of alcohol of that afternoon with an excessive amount of sleeping. He wasn't really ashamed of that, however; laziness was just a step under alcohol in the list of valid alibis. 

He finally stepped off the mauled vehicle parked over the garden and knocked twice at the Small's door. Would Brendon be upset? Rightfully so. But as he was taught , the trust of a kid could be revived as many times as needed. Which may lead to _just_ a couple of issues in the future, but in the end pays off for convenience. His, at least. Surely Brendon might be disappointed for a while, too. In the end, movies, ice cream and father-son quality chat serve for that.

McGuirk awaited shortly, tapping his toe, before catching a glimpse of a flickering dim light from one of the windows. He invited himself in, shutting the door loudly after him. Upon turning around, he saw Paula quickly stiffening her position from the nearby couch. Their gaze met: hers was tired and had a disapproving characteristic scowl. The blue light of the TV pathetically showered her face. 

"Hey." The coach rubbed his scalp, still standing in the penumbra hallway. "Is Brendon still awake?"

Paula mumbled, shifting her eyes from him to the fallen TV remote at her feet, conveniently placed next to the wine glass. Her clumsy fingertips held onto the top of the glass, chugging the rest afterwards and lowering the volume of the late sales show. "Yeah," She cleared her throat. "he's also been expecting you. Where have you been?"

"Well, there was this nasty accident."

"Right."

"And my car's tires had to be changed. You know- Lynch pretty much caused the whole ordeal."

"Sure."

"Yeah, I was giving him a ride to the airport. His mother was about to arrive to town, and well, who else but one of his closest friends to return a favor, right?" McGuirk moved closer, sitting at the opposite end of the leather sofa and stretching grossly afterwards. Paula stared al him expectantly, whilst one hand held the wine and the other rested on her knee.

"And what does that have to do with the accident and your compromise?" She asked.

"Oh, right. We, uh... got stopped by a police officer. Apparently Lynch was intoxicated. And that's a pretty big deal for a copilot when you're on your way with dealing with a family member. A _sick_ family member, 'cause his mom--"

"Alright." Paula rubbed the bridge of her nose. Not entirely due the amount of bunk coming from him; she was more tired than anything. "Brendon didn't have high hopes for this anyways. It'll be fine."

"He didn't?" John looked at her, genuinely taken aback. "Well that's plain... "

"Plain what? Hurtful? " Her mouth curled up into a sneer. "You should have thought about it before getting drunk after practice."

"Hey, calm down. I didn't have a single drink. Trust me, I even tried to suck the alcohol off the mouthwash. But to no avail, if that's what you're wondering..." He leant forwards, running his gaze lazily down the translucent half-full glass. "And I don't know why I'm getting the feeling of some kind of projection of yours."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, your tone. You sound like a stern wife." A ray of indignation struck Paula's face, but McGuirk proceeded before she could protest. "And I understand why you'd get defensive when a strong, masculine figure bails on your son. But seriously, it's all good. I'll make it up to him."

Paula paused, swirling her glass and idly watching the small whirlpool in her beverage. She wouldn't have wanted to be called out by the Coach, out of all people. And the fact that he was putting himself in such a high pedestal annoyed her, even more so knowing Brendon _did_ talk of him fondly from time to time.

She wouldn't dismiss any gut feeling for that man either.

"I guess I'm glad you two seem to be doing pretty well, despite some setbacks."

"Of course we are." He reassured lowly, mostly to himself.

Paula rested her cheek on her palm, oddly contented. The alcohol might have built on top of Brendon's pliability to comfort her. McGuirk wasn't being too intrusive either; in the mist of the night and her exhausted sight, his whole being didn't stand out like a sore thumb as much as Andrew did. She didn't know how to feel about _that_ though.

"But tell me." He added after a commercial break. "Would you say there's someone fulfilling Brendon's role model application right now?"

"It's not a job interview, John. And that's not for me to decide."


	2. Impressions.

"What about a husband?"

Paula choked on her drink. McGuirk just stared deadpan at the good looking TV hostess without realising how further he could push the tipsy woman before she decided it was enough. 

Ableit an outburst would have been reasonable; she would have never expected to be discussing her love life with her son's sluggish coach during a late night show.

"Not right now."

"Just asking. I was wondering how everything went after we hit it off. I've been doing pretty well myself, by the way."

"That's nice-"

"Contacted some friends from college, met the other moms at the practices. Of course they have a completely different lifestyle. You see, I'm not into moving on that quickly when they realize how much of a good role model I am for their kids. They drag me to their home after dinner, serve me up some wine, and before you think about it- I'm a dad, Paula."

"But you're not."

"I'm just a good match, I can't help it." Paula opened her mouth to interrupt, but McGuirk kept going much to her dismay. "And that puts a me in an unrequited position. I gotta change a lot of habits to move on, quit my impulsiveness, my passion. Which is a good thing in the field, but once you're sitting alone in the dark at home, watching cooking shows at 3 in the morning, thinking about going out and spend fifty dollars on a thanksgiving dinner during July,"

"What?"

"You realize that you should stick to Coach, your comfort zone. It's not worth it, Paula. You can't change the way people are."

"Just say you're afraid of commitment."

"Now that's not true, I'm _committed_ to stay the same."

"John." Paula straightened up and turned off the TV broadcasting a ridiculously large kitchen appliance. "It's fine. Brendon is not in need for that right now. He's already comfortable with what you already provide. Changing up the dynamics just because you're insecure is a bad idea."

McGuirk instantly missed the ambiance sound and light of the television. A large silence followed; he frantically tapped his fingers on the couch's armrest while shifting his glance to the window, the fuzzy carpet, Paula smugly crossing her legs, and back to the carpet.

"So is that why you didn't want to go any further?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is it because I happen to be somewhat doubtful?"

"There are _many_ other reasons."

"You know, I tried my best Paula. I'm all set with Brendon, but if the dinner was a turn off for you, we could try something else."

"Not the best time to negotiate..."

"Now it is."

McGuirk deliberately stood up, leaving behind a slight concavity on the couch as he leaded to the kitchen. Paula reluctantly followed him, but not before reaching for the remote and turning the TV on back again, so she could have _at least_ another source of white noise to focus on besides the couch's prattle. 

"We can make an arrangement. Remember what you said about the random bumping?" She heard his muffled voice, as his head was buried into the drawers and cabinets, closing and opening many of the creaky doors. Paula leant awkwardly onto one of the doorframes, keeping an eye on the fragile dishes, feeling stupid enough to have agreed on that during the heat of the moment.

"Yeah." She sighed.

"Well it's all coming together now!" He turned back, grinning, holding one opened bottle of wine. "We're really about the same goals of not wanting to compromise with too much, you know? Now that would be a new start, more things in common and less technical problems to deal with."

McGuirk chugged the drink loudly and abruptly. He cleaned off his mouth and watched her, thoughtful, with her arms folded over her chest and eyes pointing at the floor.

His grin dissipated upon her lack of response, and a heat induced insecurity crawled up to his head. In order to break the anticipated silence, he gingerly stepped forwards, handing the green bottle out. "But if we _were_ really a thing, tell you what. There's nothing I'd change about you."

Paula cracked an ambivalent smile. She couldn't say the same about him, of course. But if he was being honest, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt and guess he still had a long way to go with people like her, who appeared to be effortlessly laid back but would rather blow her brains out before taking a criticism from her boss. Regardless if he could see past that or scratch the mere surface, she put up with it and drank directly from the bottle without hesitation.

"You _won't_ expect a long term relationship out of this, will you?" She asked guardedly.

"Well... "

"John, you said it yourself. If you're not ready to deal with what comes along dating a single mother, we might as well call it... goofing off with each other."

"Like, going out? Resort to bumping again?"

"Yeah."

"Does that involve anything else?"

Paula bit her upper lip out of vacillation, as well as an attempt to get the sticky taste of wine off and unintentionally achieving an unsexy visage. Regardless, the coach still stared at her attentively, hoping she wouldn't notice the forming sweat stain on the collar of his shirt coated with spray deodorant by the end of the night. Of course she had. It was a mess. McGuirk knew it too, but he was already used to bet against the odds. And that could be arguably interpreted as upstanding. Brutal, cynical. Shameless. Uncaring. Thoughtlessly, she leaned forwards for a frivolous peck on his cheek.

McGuirk intercepted it, wrapping his arms around her waist and properly kissing her. Paula decided to not pull away; the nostalgic warmth on her sides, her thighs, her stomach, the alcohol, all lingered since she could remember, and today urged her to allow this experiment. He was more than happy to feel her give in to his arms, coating a rampant fondness with what she wanted, an enticing instant.

And she'd have let more than that happen if McGuirk hadn't tensed up at the sound of the bottle of green glass crashing over the floor. He watched- he predicted it- the absent look of her face spilling over the shreds of glass, to which he quickly relented:

"Let's just go upstairs."

"John-"

"I'll clean this up before leaving."

Paula didn't have the time to argue about a mood killer once he held her tight and tip toed his way upstairs, guessing the previous noise was more than enough for the sleeping kids. 

How bittersweet.

\----

There were far more noises they'd have wanted to stifle, as terse as the whole deed was.

It started out cautious. McGuirk tried to orient Paula once she clung to his arm lowering her head, but stood frozen in the middle of the way when he was being presented with several doors. She let go, then walked towards her bedroom door and opened it, him being the one locking it.

It turned out he liked the illusion of control. The coach was all about feeling her all over, to which she did enjoy, except once his ankle hit the edge of the bed she was the one sitting him down. Paula also was the one removing clothes first, having him just staring and slowly removing his after she did.

Amongst other things, McGuirk might have won the verbal persuasion but would let her lead the way once they were under the sheets.

Since she had drank way more than him, Paula muttered her wishes in an explicit fashion, steady yet not too adamant. He would chuckle nervously and yearn for the alcohol induced dizziness to help his creative genius. It was about going down, unwittingly putting too much weight over her, hearing Paula groan, apologize in a short breath, and keep going until the tune of her moaning changed.

Was she _discreet_ , though. Once he thought things were getting a little static, he asked if she could lend him a hand. And she did, more eagerly than he'd wanted, pushing him to the very edge until he stopped her. Wether if she had done it intentionally or not, he wasn't thinking about it.

McGuirk's head pulsated while Paula murmured for more. That's when he slid in and had to grasp all his might to not give in early. Every single twitch and motion sent him a mental image of the most painfully mundane aspects of his routine, reaching as far as thinking about the asshole who might have taken his place on the queue at the grocery shop. On the contrary, Paula practically forced herself in and gripped on the wrinkled covers, greedily picturing the outcoming climax in her head.

And just when her legs started quivering, he pushed, groaning several times, evidently trying to conceal himself as the viscidity over her chest betrayed him. Was he _loud,_ though.

McGuirk still had the nerve to smile and kiss Paula's cheek before laying next to her, whose annoying heat lingered between her legs. Befuddled. Sweaty. Tired.

She thought he was going to say something. Anything. But the coach remained relaxed, genuinely enjoying his stay and proud of the outcome.

She envied him for that.

Making a big deal out of it wasn't worth it, though. One day, Paula had to learn to enjoy the pleasurable fickleness of life. Even if they came and went spewing bullshit out of their mouths, wether being influenced by alcohol or not. Otherwise she couldn't afford to be happy.

She stood out, comb-fingered her hair and remarked lastly:

"We're not be picking my house ever again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm officially the first to write about these two! Home Movies fans out there, tell me what you think. See you soon!


End file.
